Blinded by The Light
by Klaive
Summary: My submission for the Blizzard Global Creative Writing Contest; "Blinded by the Light" is the story of High Elven Ranger Shandor Fateweaver as he witnesses Azeroth's many changes from the end of the Second War to the creation of the Ebon Blade.
1. Chapter 1

**[**Disclaimer**]**

**I don't own WoW or anything. **

**Most of the characters contained within this story are based off of my own characters created within Blizzard's Azeroth.**

**I also employ use of several of their NPCs.**

**This disclaimer should be obvious to anyone born with a functional brain, but I'd rather not risk the possibility that someone who was not may run across my story and cry foul for want of a disclaimer.**

**Enjoy.**

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**Chapter 1**

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"Draenei." The very word makes me sick to my stomach.

Pitiful, Self-Righteous Weaklings parading around as if they belong in this world. My world.

They look to the Naaru for guidance. They trust in the light for protection. But today, no counsel will save them from their fates. The Shadow of Death descends upon Azuremyst Isle...

...and we will snuff out the light.

A veritable army of Horde combatants stands at the ready behind me, the wooden dock creaking and flexing beneath their combined weight. The strange menagerie of restless wolves, raptors, hawkstriders, kodo and skeletal warhorses paws at the planks, eager to charge. As eager as their respective masters whose eyes shine with a deep, unquenchable hunger for blood.

There is little time for reflection. Precious little time that I shall use to tell my tale before this glorious massacre begins.

I was once a proud High Elven Ranger under the command of the Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner. She was as beautiful as she was deadly and I had admired her for some time before I was deemed worthy of her instruction. It was a true honor. I spent each day training without rest. When my peers would recover and replenish, I would continue to drive forward until my form was flawless. I was unrelenting. Tireless. Nothing could stop me.

The long nights that followed did not gift me with the rest of the weary. My mind was always blanketed in mist and chaotic thoughts raced inside my head unchecked.

I would question my training and attempt to conjure some method of enhancing its effectiveness so that I could become even stronger.

I would think of my father's bow; how its graceful curves made it a pleasure to use, how it shone with polished brilliance in even the faintest light, the flawless sounds of an arrow being propelled forward by the bow string before solidly finding its mark and, of course, I would wonder if perhaps it were still in tact somewhere. Perhaps my father was still using it to survive. Perhaps he was still trying to get back to Quel'thalas. Or perhaps it had been dragged away and abandoned by wolves who had feasted upon my father's remains.

I would imagine Lady Sylvanas taking note of my superior dedication and confessing her love for me.

Finally, I would drift off into a fitful sleep and awaken only a few hours later to do it all again.

Over time, I became an outstanding Ranger. I was truly one of Quel'thalas' best. At least, that's what I kept hearing from everyone except Lady Sylvanas. She largely ignored me. I suppose I shouldn't have been so critical of her attitude. She had more pressing matters to attend to, after all. She was wise, respected and an exceptional leader. It is likely for this reason that I jumped at the chance to obey her direct command.

"Ranger Shandor." Lady Sylvanas' beautiful voice was speaking my name. I could hardly breathe.

"Yes, my Lady? What is your will?" My voice faltered for a moment. I had been waiting for this for so very long. To be called into service by my Ranger-General. A chance to prove myself.

"I would like for you to travel South to Andorhal. A merchant's caravan carrying supplies sorely needed by the Citizens of Silvermoon has requested a Ranger escort to our gates." she replied.

My heart sank. "But... my Lady. Isn't that a task better suited to-"

"It is best suited to you." she interrupted me. She could clearly see the look of confusion on my face that I was no longer attempting to hide. "The caravan needs protection. That is why I am sending them one of our best."

The compliment was all but lost on me. Later, I would recall her words and swell with both pride and regret but at that moment I could only marvel over how I, Ranger Shandor Fateweaver, had been relegated to such a menial task. No longer thinking clearly, I lost my patience and spoke with a harsh, questioning tone. "It needs protection? From what? A couple of owls? A bear? Perhaps a billy goat?"

The chuckles of my peers were quickly cut short by Lady Sylvanas' glare. Her cheeks flushed pink and she stared me directly in the eyes. It felt like I was being dominated. I liked it.

"Do not question my orders, Ranger. You are to rendezvous with the merchant's caravan and escort it safely to our gates. However, I also wish for you to scout the area along the way. Take your time and make careful note of the conditions around Andorhal. Pay close attention to the populace and their behavior. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, report it to me immediately upon your return to Eversong Forest." Her words ended with a tone of certain finality, implying that any further discussion would not be met with the temperance of their predecessors.

"Understood, my Lady." Though I did not understand at all. "It will be done."


	2. Chapter 2

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**Chapter 2  
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The sharp scent of charred earth and ash assaulted my senses as I made my way through Banthalas Bandu; known in the Common Tongue as the "Blackened Woods." Once gorgeous and pristine, an attack by mighty dragons laid fiery waste to much of Eversong Forest during the Second War. The result was a sickly stretch of dead trees whose surfaces carried more resemblance to coal than to wood.

The broken skeletons of forest creatures, their fur and flesh long since incinerated by the raging fires that swept through this region, lay lifeless among the sparse grass that had begun to germinate; nourished by the rich nutrients left behind by the destruction.

At the time, I had not yet learned to appreciate the beauty of a lifeless skeleton. Unfortunately for all of us, it was a sight that would not be seen again in these woods for decades to come.

I traveled through the Thalassian Pass and into Eastern Lordaeron without incident. To my left, I caught sight of a grazing billy goat. I couldn't help but smile in recollection of my earlier outburst. I became distracted as I walked, amusing myself with images of a rampaging billy goat in Silvermoon City. I pictured it headbutting magisters and overturning carts full of fruit, terrorizing the noble women and delighting the children who would applaud its wild shenanigans.

My reverie was abruptly cut short by the sudden appearance of a human woman from a copse of evergreens by the side of the road. My bow slipped from my shoulder and into my hand reflexively due to the fact that she was dressed like what I would have described as "an off-duty bandit" (if there even is such a thing). Something was strange about the way she moved. She was hobbled, unsteady and weak. As she drew closer, I noticed that she was injured. Her clothing was torn and dirty and she looked as though she had been beaten.

She collapsed onto her knees in front of me and tried to speak, but no sound escaped her parched lips. Seeing that she was clearly dehydrated and quite nearly starved, I offered her a half-full waterskin and a handful of berries. She drank eagerly, emptying the skin in a single draw before beginning to eat.

"Tell me... how is it that a human girl finds herself in such a condition within the boundaries of Lordaeron?" I asked abruptly, my question more a command to surrender information than a petition for cooperation.

"I'm... runnin' from some highwaymen." she replied, her aquamarine eyes roaming over my possessions as well as they could given that they were both nearly swollen shut. "They were gonna kill me."

I did not trust her words, she was hiding something. "Why didn't you stop off at Corin's Crossing then? They would have protected you from any pursuers."

"I passed through there..." she murmured, casting her gaze downward to avoid making eye contact with me.

"I find that hard to believe," I responded. "They would have given you water and bread at the very least."

It was then that I noticed the "S" freshly branded into the side of her neck. Her long, black hair had been hiding it but now that it was revealed, all became clear to me. My arrow was nocked and my bowstring was drawn in an instant. Even her thick Syndicate skull would not stand up to the force of an arrow fired by a composite bow in the hands of a High Elven Ranger.

"On a mission for the Syndicate, are you?" I accused while working to master my rage. "I suppose they roughed you up for the sake of appearance and are having you work as a decoy for a roadside ambush. Am I correct?"

"N-No!" she stammered. "I'm runnin' from the Syndicate! They did this to me! Y-You gotta believe me! Please!" she cried, grabbing hold of my tunic as tears streamed down her face. I thought that she must be well trained indeed to produce such a believable emotional response on demand.

"Lie to me, will you?" I relaxed my arrow, returned it to its quiver and shouldered my bow in a single fluid movement before grasping her hair roughly in my hand and yanking her forward down the path as she cried out from the discomfort. "Are you insane, wench? Had you spoken true, your fate would have amounted to a comfortable cell in Silvermoon City."

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" she cried, her hands latching around my wrist as I drug her along. "I'm not lyin'! I'm not! Listen to me! By the Light, hear me out!"

To this, I could only manage a derisive laugh. I stopped moving and looked down at her. What a pitiful wretch she was. "By the 'Light?' The 'light' is as nothing before the power of the Sunwell. It is dim and lacking by comparison. You humans march about the place, talking about your precious 'light' as though it will save you from all threats that should rise to threaten your Kingdom. I tell you now. It will not."

She whimpered pitifully in my grasp as I continued to speak.

"Your kind lacks even the power to eliminate its own traitors. Instead, you and your Syndicate are allowed to run free, terrorizing their own race. What a shameful civilization you are. Were it not for Prince Kael'thas' insistence that we are to treat you fools as allies, Lordaeron would have been razed years ago. We would have wiped you short-lived mongrels off the face of the Azeroth and claimed your lovely lands as our own."

She stood on her own and began to walk ahead of me in silence, allowing me to release my grasp on her hair and focus on reaching the town ahead of us. It gave my dislike for her time to grow within me. Humans. What an ineffectual mixed bag they were.

I respected the Dwarves. An industrious people with a good work ethic and a peerless talent for forging quality arms. Their weaponry and armor was not as stylish or as well-fitted as our own, but what it lacked in customization it made up for in versatility. Some pieces were so flawlessly crafted that a dwarven hero could wear them for the whole of his career, entrust them to the son of his human friend and see them passed down for ten generations before any wear was evident. Despite the differences in bodily proportions, dwarven crafted armor was sure to fit anyone save for perhaps very short gnomes. Most importantly, the dwarven people were loyal. Perhaps to a fault.

I admired the Gnomes. Their intellect and curiosity was unmatched. Some of the world's greatest minds were counted among their race and despite their diminutive stature, boundless enthusiasm seemed to erupt from them at all times. Pioneers in the field of Engineering, they had often captured my interest. Their guns seemed to be every bit as reliable and effective as my bow... though I had not yet been convinced to make the switch. Their men were friendly, their women beautiful. Unfortunately, they were not capable of standing on their own as a people. I knew little of their situation with Gnomeregan, but I was well aware that they were as bound by the dwarves' loyalty as the dwarves themselves were.

I had little love for the Kaldorei, though considerably more than I do now. A formerly reckless people, now attempting to atone for their past by becoming overly cautious and disturbingly restrictive. I learned much about the damage their culture can inflict upon a young child when I was growing up. A kindly Warlock and his wife had taken in an infant they found abandoned on their travels through Kalimdor. The child was Forlarren. The ill-fated product of a Kaldorei and Demon coupling. It took a great deal of convincing for them to be allowed to raise her but, as she was still an infant, it was decided that she could become a loyal asset to our people.

I was one of the few children who was not afraid to be seen near her. We would often play together and we quickly became close friends. It was probably for this reason that her parents saw fit to educate me regarding her nature and the way "Night Elf" society would have treated her. They told me that it was likely her father was a Demon and her mother was Kaldorei. Their evidence for this was that the child had been abandoned and that any demon would've been more than happy to take her in and bring her up to do their bidding.

They spoke at length with me about how Kaldorei society would have mistreated my friend. How they would've likely had her mother jailed as an agent in league with Demons. How they would have viewed her with mistrust no matter what good she brought to their society. How she would have likely ended up killed if she even so much as spoke out of turn to the wrong person. She would have been barred from training in magical arts or communing with nature out of fear that it would empower her into a greater threat than she already was.

They told me that I should know this because I was her very best friend and that she looked to me for reassurance. Doubts about her importance to her parents could not be comforted. She was, in all probability, not loved at all. The fact that she yet lives is meaningless, as she had been abandoned in a ravine and left to die. My presence was the only thing keeping her from feeling like an outcast traveling through the world completely alone.

I disliked the Kaldorei for being so hostile towards those different than themselves, but I had to blame myself for whatever fate befell my friend. I had trusted my father to protect her when she wanted to go with him to see Kalimdor. He assured me that she would be fine. And then, more than a year later... I had heard nothing from either of them. Had I known their specific destination, I would have departed to search for them. I would have died trying to find them. I miss them both so very much.

A sudden scream shattered my thoughts and startled me back to reality. We had arrived in Corin's Crossing. The sound had originated from a house further ahead along the road. From the sound of it, something had terrified a young lady inside of that dwelling. As we drew closer the door burst open and the scream resounded again, as feminine and terrified as the last. This time, however, we saw that the noise was emanating from a young man who was flailing down the stairs as quickly as he could.

I released my captive and managed my bow, my senses alert and my mind ready for combat. The shrieking continued for several moments as the homely half-elven man stared at the door, his eyes wide in horror and alarm.

"Good sir. Calm down." I stated loudly, attempting to drown out his high-pitched squeals of fear. "Calm... Calm-. Sir, calm... CALM DOWN!" I finally shouted, silencing him and breaking him out of his shock. He looked at me for the first time, tears of panic rolling down his cheeks. "I'm not going to hurt you. I am Ranger Shandor Fateweaver of Quel'thalas. What is your name?" I asked.

I thought for a moment that he wouldn't respond but after a long pause, his chin quivered and he sobbed out his name. "C-Cefka, milord. My name's Cefka."

I nodded to him and drew an arrow, nocking it to the string and taking aim at the doorway of the house from whence he came. "What manner of foul being has driven you to such extremes, Cefka? Can you tell me? Was it a demon, perhaps? A fel orc? Surely not one of the Amani Trolls this far south?"

"N-No, milord." he muttered through tears. "I think..." He began to bawl loudly, sobbing in earnest and covering his eyes. "I think I saw a rat in the cupboard!"

Sighing, I replaced my arrow and shouldered my bow, my peripheral vision still trained on my Syndicate captive to ensure that she made no attempt to escape. I saw only a snicker. I started to walk deeper into town with her in tow, leaving the blubbering fool to his misery. As I neared the local Constabulary, I noticed that hardly anyone was out and about. Unusual for a trade crossroads such as this. I took note of it to report back to Lady Sylvanas and headed inside the building.

Constable Dimitri Nykon, a Human in his mid-50s, greeted me as I walked through the door. I had first met him when he was considerably younger and watching him age so rapidly was disheartening to say the least. Today, he looked especially old. His eyes were sunken and though I clearly had a captive for him, his first order of business seemed to be a violent coughing fit that left his white handkerchief covered in speckles of red.

He cleared his throat and stood, walking up to us and looking the girl over. "Well met, Shandor. What can I do for you today?"

Ignoring his failing health, I responded plainly. "I encountered this young woman on the road from Quel'thalas. She has been branded with the Syndicate's mark on the side of her neck and was beaten up. She told me she was fleeing from bandits."

"Highwaymen." she interrupted me.

"What?" I glared over at her, surprised by the voice she suddenly found.

"I said I was runnin' from highwaymen. Not bandits." she corrected.

"Fine." I sighed and looked back to Dimitri. "Highwaymen. Regardless, the brand is new and this struck me as a probable initiation for new recruits. They approach travelers, battered and exhausted, ask for help and while their mark is occupied perhaps a larger band of outlaws would surround them and take their possessions."

The Constable took at look at her neck and shook his head. "Nope. 'fraid not. You don't know much about these Syndicate types do you, Shandor?"

I shrugged. "They aren't my area of expertise."

"See," he said. "They only brand the ones who try to leave and get caught again. This little girl wasn't trying to play you. She probably was born into them and got sick of the things they made her do. I'll hold her here for a while, but I doubt she'll be a permanent resident."

"Hmmph." I gritted my teeth for a moment. "I care not. Do what you will. She's your problem now. I'll just be..." Pausing to look around, I noticed a strange pall of silence over the normally bustling Constabulary for the first time. "Where are your deputies and the clerk? And all the people who make complaints to you all day long?"

"Oh, noticed that did you?" he chuckled while coughing slightly into his hand. "They're all sick, I'm afraid. We've come down with a devil of a flu around here. A few of our elderly already passed away from it." I could see the girl becoming restless and trying to scoot away from the Constable. He noticed and turned to address her directly. "But don't worry yourself none, little missy. Doc says it was probably something we ate. Maybe a fungus on the crops or something. It ain't contagious and we've got some safe food on hand for you. Good thing we caught it when we did, right? Hell, the only one who didn't get sick was that Half-Elf Cefka. Said the rats were guarding the cupboard and wouldn't let him eat. Boy's been surviving off apples and wild carrots for weeks."

The girl shot a glare in my direction, her eyes like daggers dripping with venom. "Someday, Ranger Shandor... I will make you pay for this. From this day forward, you are my enemy."

"I'll see you again, Dimitri." I said, eager to report this all to my Ranger-General. I walked out the building and headed towards the town center to search for the caravan. As I passed the graveyard, another ear-piercing scream rang out. "Another rat?" I thought to myself, turning around to see where it came from. A woman was fleeing from something concealed behind the grave markers. There was a brief flash of light and I saw her fall into an open plot.

Beside the grave was a wooden coffin. The lid was splintered, as though something had burst its way out from inside. Deeply concerned, I once again prepared myself for combat in the usual fashion. I stealthily moved to inspect the origin point of the flash. As I weaved my way around the headstones, my heart began to race. Something felt very wrong. If not for the surreal quality of the experience, I would have likely backtracked and returned to Eversong empty-handed. As it happened, I did not.

Looking around, I found nothing - and just as I was about to return to report what I saw to Dimitri, the sound of unearthly chanting reached my ears. Spinning around, I drew my bow and faced the figure behind me. It was a man wearing only a loin cloth and a long, tattered red cloak. He was badly emaciated, resembling a living corpse more than a human.

He gestured wildly while hissing an incantation, his glowing yellow eyes glaring malevolently at me. Wordlessly, I released an arrow that landed solidly into his chest. It was a perfect heart-strike. For a moment, it looked as though all my training had paid off. Only, he did not seem to notice the fact that I had landed a fatal blow. Nocking another arrow, I fired again, cracking his ribs open and revealing an abdominal cavity full black bile and insects.

As I reached for a third arrow, the monstrosity finished casting its spell. A veil of shadows descended upon me. My world began to fade to black. Vertigo set in and my eyes began to close. I could not remain conscious. I could not even recall why I would want to. I could hear Cefka screaming in the distance, "SOMEONE HELP ME! RAAAAT!" but my concerns drifted away at once, leaving behind only a deep and tranquil sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

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**Chapter 3  
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Vivid dreams haunted my slumbering mind. I found myself a wandering spirit drifting above a war-torn Azeroth without a will of my own. The shambling dead walked the lands, hungering for brains and the flesh of the living. Stratholme burned as her people cried out for help that would never come. Fire rained from the skies and from the flames were born immense creatures of fel destruction. I witnessed orcs battling their own kind with unbridled fury. I saw them united by a young Warchief, his eyes shining with Honor. I felt the pain of my people; a catastrophic disaster in my homelands... and a thirst...

...such... thirst.

I could not understand this feeling growing within me. I longed to throw myself into the Sunwell. To drink up its energies until it was dry. I craved that essence with an intensity that made bloodthistle withdrawal pale by comparison.

Flashes of that ghoulish magician entered my mind time and again but the fear I felt during the attack was replaced by a maddening desire to seize the foul creature and suck away every tendril of magic that he could produce. He was no longer an enemy, but a mobile vessel containing sustainance. Sweet, beautiful, lovely mana. I could feel it bathing me. Enfolding my very spirit in its comforting embrace. This was how I felt before. This was how I felt and I had taken it for granted every day of my life. Why now was this sensation so fleeting?

I was unable to move or to speak but images and sounds continued to play out before me as if seen through a Scrying Orb. I beheld the somber monument constructed to honor Uther Lightbringer. I knew in my heart that all hope had gone if our greatest Champion had fallen. Though my fondness for humans was indeed limited, Uther had been an exception.

True heroes are rarely seen in Azeroth. According to my people, a hero's spirit is exceedingly ancient and comes to our world to guide us to our destinies. Many have claimed to be heroes and many more have been granted that distinction by officials seeking to reward brave deeds.

Though he had countless commendations, Uther Lightbringer needed no such distinction. While he and I disagreed completely on the merits of the Light, I could not deny that his faith served him well. To be near him on the battlefield was to become courageous beyond imagining. His leadership, his honor and his charisma made him a bastion of hope in the midst of chaos.

He inspired me.

I sensed more than saw the Old Alliance crumble and scatter like ashes on the wind.

Its remnants could do little more than cling together and form a mockery of its former glory. The trivial child of a trivial king leading the shattered remains of a once honorable civilization from the safety of a makeshift capital-keep does not the Alliance make.

And yet, it is indeed what they chose to call themselves. The Alliance.

It seemed as though my blood was boiling. My thirst for magic again started to rise within me and, again, there was nothing I could do. Just as I felt that I would lose myself to this overwhelming need for energy, it was once again mysteriously sated.

I saw that the Horde had changed as well. No longer were the orcs a race of bloodthirsty savages. Their wise leader had forged alliances with both the peaceful Tauren as well as the Darkspear Troll tribe. They were working together to mete out a life for themselves, trying with everything in them to construct a home within some of the most inhospitable parts of Kalimdor.

The new "Alliance" was not making this difficult task any easier on them. Humans sailed across the sea to Kalimdor (something they had outright refused to do when it may have done some good) for no greater purpose than to drive the orcs out of their new home by force. Their attempts always failed but another was never far off.

My visions drifted between figures that were somehow important and, upon seeing them, my mind filled out their identities as though I had known them for some time. I beheld Tanta and Rain, two Tauren druidesses who barely knew one another on a never-ending quest to heal the blight that had swept the Eastern Kingdoms.

I witnessed Shakaku, the daughter of Magister Lightgale from Silvermoon City, struggling to contain the influences of fel energies that had been a part of her since she was born. Following this a vision of Klaive; the young Elf on his way to greatness, entered my mind. Smitten with a hopeless love for Shakaku, he departed for the very center of the war that raged between the living and the dead, intent on becoming a hero worthy of her hand.

A shift of perspective allowed me to view Yaluk, a skilled Tauren Hunter whose aim was true enough to rival my own. How he managed this with cow fingers, I'll never know. Another Hunter, this one a troll named Nodel, stalked his way through Stranglethorn Vale with his loyal turtle Tammy in tow behind him. As Yaluk refined his skills as a marksman, Nodel followed the trail of what looked to be exotic game. His hunt took him far to the North, drawing ever closer to the fallen lands of Lordaeron.

The flashes came more rapidly. Namshiel, the Mad Warlock bent on realizing his twisted desires, spent hours on end honing his skills so that someday he could usurp the dark powers which he so readily served and claim their might for his own.

A young girl by the name of Pammajay took her father's gun as he slept in the back room, whispered a faint apology and departed her home to embark on what may prove to be a much longer journey than she had anticipated.

A High Elven Assassin moved with unearthly grace, slipping unnoticed into position behind a human councilman as he fussed over his attire, intent on making a good impression before his colleagues in the hopes of securing a majority vote for his proposal to formally declare war on the Horde. The assassin's blades gleamed brilliantly in the faint light, her remorseless eyes burning into my mind as she deftly slit the human's throat and made her way out of the room before his corpse had even hit the floor. Her name was drowned out by the sudden flood of new names that began to enter my mind accompanied by images too rapid to decypher. Shino, Ahnri, Nadjaa, Nathroshaz, Fawnie, Pretz, Ashkevron, Terris, Sloat and Jajang.

Then, all at once, there was silence. Everything was black. I ached all over and I felt weak. Gradually, faint voices drifted into the silence and I could only just make out what they were saying.


	4. Chapter 4

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**Chapter 4  
**

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"...taking all the mana I've got just to sustain him!" said one rather hoarse female voice.

There was a long pause. "He needs to be in Silvermoon. What were you thinking bringing a Sin'dorei to a place like this?" This voice was assertive and beautiful. I wondered if perhaps Lady Sylvanas had found me in Corin's Crossing and was preparing to transport me back home to tend to whatever injuries I may have.

"Brill was getting too risky." the first voice replied. "The Undercity Apothecaries wanted to start jamming him full of needles and probes to see what kind of curse he was under. So I moved and brought him with me. Silvermoon really isn't my sort of city. No offense to you or anything."

"You shoulda contacted me, Magethra. I would've retrieved him for ya. You know he's probably got family back home who think he's dead." The informal speaking patterns of this second voice were my first clue that it couldn't be Lady Sylvanas after all. When I abandoned the hope that it might be her, it began to sound less and less like the voice that I remembered. Still, it was a lovely sound to hear after all that my dreams had put me through.

"Yes, I suppose so. I just so enjoyed having him near me. He's a nice bit of eye candy if nothing else. Besides," the voice of Magethra said with a bemused inflection in her hoarse voice. "It isn't as though he's ever going to wake up." I tried to open my eyes but the lids were heavy and my best effort only managed to push my eyebrows up into a vaguely surprised expression. I heard a gasp followed by the sound of a bottle breaking against the floor. "He's waking up!" Magethra's voice cried out. "That ridiculous potion of yours worked, Sin! He's coming to!"

As I finally managed to force my eyes open, blurry images began to come into focus. Looming above me was a dead woman standing upright. Her boney hands were clasped together, her sunken cheekbones made it appear that she was grinning broadly and her glowing yellow eyes peered down at me with interest. Her hair stuck out at all sort of chaotic angles, further terrifying me.

A scream of horror burst forth from my throat. If I could have moved easily, I would've been across the room in that instant, managing a bow to strike down this living corpse once and for all. As it happened, I could barely move at all. My muscles felt as though they had forgotten how to command their own movements and every effort seemed laborious.

"Sin!" the corpse lady yelled. "I think you should come see him. My exquisite countenance is a bit much for him to bear!"

"I'm coming." came the reply. "I was just finishing up a salve that should speed his recovery along." I never even heard the approaching footsteps but before I knew it, the dead woman was gone and I was gazing up at a beautiful female High Elf. Something about her was disturbingly familiar. She began to rub a strong-smelling salve onto my skin as she spoke. "Don't worry. My name's Sin and I'm a doctor."

The memory of my last vision rushed back into my mind and my eyes grew wide. She was no mere doctor. She was the assassin that had murdered that human in cold blood. I could feel my muscles tightening and regaining a bit of their strength, the tingling salve taking effect rapidly. At least, she did seem to know how to heal as well as she knew how to butcher the unwary. "What's your name?" she asked me simply.

"S-Shandor... ow..." it hurt to talk and my tongue felt lethargic. "I'm a ranger."

"Well, Shandor." Sin's tone was conversational as she worked to cover my hands with the salve, Magethra the corpse lady scooping up a handful and covering my legs with it, inducing a shudder that ran down my spine to each of my limbs while Sin continued to speak. "You've been unconscious for a long while now. Not sure exactly how long but things have changed. You'll need to keep an open mind and try not to have a mental breakdown. Your muscles are weak from extended bed rest and chances are that you'll need significant rehabilitation before you can return to the lifestyle to which a Ranger is likely accustomed. Stay calm and we'll have you walking in no time."

I tried to clench my fist, but I could barely do it. My fingers seemed as though they had trouble coordinating well enough to meet each other. She was right. "I... I can't fire a bow? It feels like I can barely squeeze a trigger."

"You may be looking at some permanent nerve damage, deary." Magethra interjected. "There's no guarantee you'll ever improve well enough to go around shooting people. Besides, there aren't any rangers left in Eversong these days unless you count the Farstriders. I think you're out of luck there."

I sighed deeply and tilted my head back. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. "Well, what am I supposed to do then!?" I asked, becoming frustrated.

"Well," Sin began with a grin spreading across her face. "The Blood Knights are always looking for new recruits and that doesn't require any coordination whatsoever."

"Blood Knights?" I asked.

Sin and Magethra spent the next few hours catching me up on the changes that had taken place during what I now understood to be a Persistent Necromantic Coma. Over the past couple of years, all hell had broken loose. My dreams were not merely flights of fancy after all. I had been somehow observing these changes from outside of my body. Magethra explained that she represented a portion of the plagued Lordaeron populace that had broken free of the Lich King's psychic control and were now living under the ruins of Lordaeron in a place called Undercity.

I felt all returning strength leave my body as she informed me that Lady Sylvanas had fallen in battle against the traitorous Prince Arthas and had also been denied a clean death. She was now their Banshee Queen and had sworn vengeance on behalf of her kingdom, its people Forsaken by their former allies due to their appearance and misconceptions held by a fearful and closed-minded human populace.

I learned of the Burning Legion, of the destruction of our beloved Sunwell and of Prince Kael'thas' betrayal at the hands of the Alliance as well as his subsequent descent into villiany fueled by desperation to save his people.

Sin took great pride in telling me that we were now members of the Horde under the command of the Warchief Thrall and that the Alliance was now our enemy. "Don't worry though," she added cheerfully. "All the friends you had in the Alliance have been dead for a long while. You won't have to face any of them in battle."

I learned of the Naaru and of the blood knights. The subject of the Draenei came up. "They crash-landed here recently." Magethra explained. "Well, not right here, but on Azuremyst Isle."

Sin nodded gravely. "And, of course, they've joined with the Alliance. You'll notice they look a lot like some of the Legion's leadership. The whole 'Bipedal Goat from Outer Space with Squidy Neck Tentacles' look is something they share in common because two of their three greatest leaders joined with the Burning Legion in exchange for power. The one who fled after the offer was made is now the leader of the Draenei. Naturally, the Alliance believes that their mutual trust in the Light gives them a common ground upon which a relationship between their respective people can be built."

I heard tales of Outland, learned of the infestation of Scourge up and down the Dead Scar and felt at times as though my head would burst from all the information that I was absorbing. Luckily, none of this information was brand new to me. All it seemed to do was solidify my disjointed dreams into a cohesive experience that I was beginning to understand much better.

Soon, I was able to move with much greater ease. I slowly climbed to my feet as they caught me up on current events and I spent several moments steadying myself. Looking around, I realized at once that I was in Gadgetzan. How I got here was a mystery to me, but it became readily apparent that my presence was of little concern to the populace.

While my muscles were slower than they used to be, my eyes were as keen as ever. As I stood by the doorway and peered outside, I spied a rapidly descending crystalline object of minuscule proportions glinting in the bright Tanaris sun. The object fell silently into a bowl of porridge being consumed by a hapless male goblin who was lazily tending a cart full of miscellaneous wares.

He lifted the spoon to his mouth, the object shimmering within the utensil, cradled by the soft mash of boiled oats and milk. I yelled a warning to him, but it was muffled by the bustling crowd traversing the streets between our respective positions. He swallowed the item, completely oblivious to its existence, and continued eating.

I spent some time discussing my plans now that I had awakened with Sin and Magethra. I discovered that Sin had been asked to come here by Magethra to determine if I could be awakened and that this was the first time she had seen me. They told me of the rise of numerous heroes, some of which I recognized from my vision. I was informed that Klaive had become an exceptional blood knight but he had been lost in battle some time ago.

It turned out that Sin and Shakaku were close friends and had been since childhood. As we were getting into the finer details of this, a commotion arose outside.

A trio of adventurers approached the goblin vendor with a pulsating orb in their possession. "He has the crystal." accused an orc dressed in bulky plate. "Take it from him!" A comely troll woman, one of his traveling companions, approached and frisked the unwary goblin. A great deal of awkward sounds resulted from this onslaught of petting until finally the troll girl announced, "'e ain't got it on 'im. Me t'ink 'e 'idin' it, mon. We cut 'im til 'e tell us where it be."

The goblin shrieked. "I don't know anything about a crystal, lady! You've got it all wrong!"

I'm still not sure how she got past me unnoticed that day but the next thing I knew, Sin was standing behind the group of adventurers and talking. "He doesn't know nothin'. Whatever you're lookin' for fell out of the sky into his bowl. I watched him eat it not ten minutes ago. So... I guess you'll have to wait." She smirked to herself, likely imagining as I was the adventuring trio following the goblin around with a bag and a scooper.

"We don't have time for that." said Namshiel, the third member of the group. "We must collect that crystal and get back to our base camp before nightfall or there will be hell to pay. I believe that I can apply the same principle employed by my imp's phase shift ability to pass my hand harmlessly into this goblin's stomach and retrieve the crystal."

"Really? You can do that?" the orc warrior asked, impressed.

"Well," Namshiel began, slowly approaching the cornered goblin. "I've never tried it before, but the theory sounds plausible. I can't guarantee it will be painless for him, but one way or another, we'll get our crystal." The troll girl and the orc seized the goblin and pinned him to the ground as he writhed and struggled in vain. Namshiel drew closer to his victim, his hand shifting in and out of transparency as he worked to stabilize the effect.

"Help!" yelled the goblin. "They're detaining me for no reason! I haven't done anything! Somebody help me! Somebody help me! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!" No one paid the goblin any mind. Namshiel, now satisfied with his control over his phased hand, knelt beside the goblin and prepared to plunge his fingers into the plump green belly before him. The goblin cried out again in vain. "Don't phase me, bro! Don't phase me, bro! AAAHHHH! Ow! Ow! Owwwwww!"

"So," Magethra suddenly said to me amidst the cries of anguish going on in front of us. "You said you'd be returning to Silvermoon, correct?" She retrieved a strange device from the cabinet and placed it on the floor, turning it on and waiting as it powered up. Abruptly, a rift appeared in the center of the room and beyond that rift, I could see the spires of Silvermoon. "There you are," she said with a demented grin. "These goblins have some amazing technology. Take care of yourself."

Dazed at how suddenly all of this was happening, I stepped through the rift and found myself standing before a Blood Knight recruiter in Silvermoon City. The sensation was incredible. The relief I felt to be home was beyond anything that I can describe to you. I was back... and there was much to do.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**Chapter 5  
**

* * *

Over the next several months, I re-acclimated myself to life in service to Silvermoon. My Blood Knight training was more than a little beneficial to my physical rehabilitation. Mastering the Light and bending it to my will was not nearly as difficult as I had expected and I was even starting to make new friends.

Ahnri, Nightfawn and Ashmea had decided that I was "cute" and, in a frenzy of overzealous female whimsy, would often abduct me from the rigors of training to restyle my hair and get me drunk in the hopes of watching me make a fool of myself. I would often wake up hungover and copperless in those days, but it gave me something to care about. Getting used to the sight of former enemies walking around in my home city was going to take a while and, with Lady Sylvanas gone, the Sunwell destroyed and the Scourge on our doorstep, anything positive was a welcome respite from an otherwise dreary and somber reality.

Finally, the day arrived when my training was complete and I was deployed to Light's Hope Chapel to join with the Argent Dawn in beating back the tireless Scourge Army. Shino, Pammajay and Albtraum were the first Sin'dorei that I encountered upon arrival to the base camp outside the chapel so I naturally gravitated towards them. Shino and Albtraum were priests charged with serving as medics to the wounded who found their way back here.

I was beginning to get along with them nicely. Pammajay was a very sweet Blood Elf who had somehow befriended a gorilla in the wild. I had always appreciated exotic animals and just as I was getting to know her primate companion, a Draenei Paladin approached me.

"Hail." he stated as he approached me, his posture stiff and formal. "I see that you have made some friends, Recruit. We encourage that..." I began to speak but was abruptly interrupted as the Draenei continued to speak. "But I would suggest that you diversify somewhat. We are about unity here. No race is given preference over another. It is a hard lesson for you blood elves to learn sometimes, but we are patient and we hope that you will make every effort to uphold our pious ideals."

With that, he turned on his hooves and pranced off into the night.

I gave what he had said some thought. I befriended a gnome named Sparklemouse who had learned 'everything about Gnomish Engineering' from a blood elf 'like me' before he disappeared in battle. I could only assume she was referring to Klaive as he was a well-known inventor and mechanic. I had several intriguing conversations with a Forsaken named Morgan Sloat who had been a Lordaeron noble that stood to inherit a sizable fortune before the plague wiped out his family and subsequently scattered his wealth and I got to know Tanta the Tauren Druidess fairly well. She was quite nice but often grew depressed with the state of the lands around her. She could feel their pain.

In time, I came to view the entire Argent Dawn as a family upon which I could rely, a sentiment I had not felt since the days when I had been a Ranger under Lady Sylvanas. I had tried many times to befriend the Draenei. I wished to know more about them than I already did. All I knew so far was that they had crashed into Azeroth after fleeing from something and that two of their leaders had defected with the remainder of their people to join the Burning Legion. It was not a flattering history. I wished to hear their side of things so that I could allow myself to forgive the crimes of their race and instead focus on its merits.

I was snubbed each time I tried to reach out to them. The females treated me as an object of disgust while the males had difficulty concealing their loathing for me each time I drew near. I was not certain why they carried such a demeanor about them where I was concerned, but I was later informed that it traced back to the Outland conflict between the Aldor and the Scryers.

Still, I remembered the words of that Paladin and I resolved that despite our differences, I would protect them just the same. We were united in opposition to the Scourge. I would not let petty grievances get in the way of that.

Several days passed, each the same as the last. I patrolled the Plaguelands with Tanta, Sloat and Pammajay. Joining us were two Draenei; the Paladin who had first approached me and changed my perspective so dramatically and a female Mage who looked at me as though I were a ten-day old murloc corpse washed up on a pristine white sand beach. Their names were Zander and Xylia respectively and I only knew that much because they referred to one another by name from time to time.

Yes, these were the so-called "Children of the Light" but they were aliens, after all. I had to cut them some slack. It had to be hard to live in a foreign world so beset by strife. "Perhaps," I thought. "In time they will come around."

One night, as we were bedding down near a camp fire we had built in a small clearing by Blackwood Lake and Sloat and I were discussing the rumors that the Lich King's hold over some of his stronger forces had been slipping of late, a Saronite Arrow exited the shadows and lodged itself firmly in Tanta's shoulder. She immediately slumped over and fell unconscious. Either the arrow was enchanted or it was poisoned. Sardonic laughter emerged from the darkness as a vaguely familiar Blood Elven woman stepped into the flickering firelight. We all had our weapons at the ready, but the realization that she carried no bow gave us pause. Clearly, something else was lurking just beyond our field of vision.

"Bed time for the Agent Dawn already?" she chided, turning her inscribed blade so that the flames of our camp fire danced in its mirror-polished surface. I recognized that blade. It belonged to Nadjaa. I had met her in Silvermoon along with her brother. They had matching custom blades and seemed inseparable. She was a kind and devoted girl but now... she was working for the Lich King. I could feel the unholy energy radiating off of her.

"You won't be getting much rest tonight, I'm afraid." she continued with faux regret in her voice. "The Lich King has asked me to collect your hearts and deliver them to him personally." She extended her hand towards me and tendril of violet energy yanked me into her grasp. Her strength was unnatural. She held me off the ground by my throat with but a single hand. Struggle as I might, I could not escape her death grip. "I intend to come through." she added. It was then that Nodel emerged from the tree-line and begin picking off the skeletal archers behind her one-by-one. It seemed the hand of fate had finally lead him to this place. Perhaps he could turn the tide of this confrontation.

Sloat began to fiddle with something behind his back. I could tell she hadn't noticed and made no motion that might give it away. Moments later when a mob of bow-wielding skeletons emerged from the darkness, I heard the sound of metal scraping and skittering across the ground. Nadjaa looked down at the object Sloat had thrown by her feet and her eyes barely had enough time to register the surprise she felt before the fel iron grenade detonated.

I could hear little more than ringing in my ears for several moments, my body throbbing from the shockwave of energy that had sent me flying from Nadjaa's grasp. Sloat was unconscious next to me, Tanta was still knocked out from the arrow and Pammajay was either dead or faking it quite well. Nadjaa recovered first, enraged. She approached me and glared down into my face as I lay prone and helpless before her. "Time to die." she said simply, thrusting her sword towards my chest with the grace of a fencer.

Her blow was completely deflected by a bubble of light that surrounded me in my moment of desperation. I had been well-trained to manipulate Light energy and I wasn't about to go down without a fight. I leapt to my feet and reached into my bag for an Elixir of Giant Strength, but found that I had used the last one earlier. With a look of disappointment upon my face, I drew my sword and faced her, preparing for battle.

Smirking, Nadjaa held up my hearthstone that had been knocked out of my bag by the explosion. "Looking for this?"

"It seems you have me confused with a Human." I retorted. "You're in for difficult battle, Nadjaa."

With that, I leapt at her with a downward cleave which she barely side-stepped. She saved her energy, knowing that my bubble would protect me for a few seconds longer. Finally, the protective light faded around me and we began to fight in earnest. We were evenly matched, my mighty blows cutting deep into her armor and sinking into her flesh while her deft upward slashes left me wounded and bleeding. Her minions remained engaged in a heated exchange of arrows with the troll taking cover among the trees, his turtle Tammy slipping up from her hiding place in the lake to inflict a crushing bite to one of their legs before retreating back into her aquatic cover.

It looked as though this would be a stalemate. We stood staring into each other's eyes and trying to catch our breath, our bodies covered in cuts and bruises ranging from minor scratches to deep gouges. We were both sizing the other up, looking for an opening and thinking of ways to exploit any weakness the other may possess.

That is when I heard Sloat laugh weakly to himself, still lying face down in the dirt. This time, the grenade bumped into my foot and stopped rolling. I attempted to jump back but took the brunt of the blast. Luckily, Nadjaa was hit almost as hard as I was. I couldn't move at all.

Zander pulled Xylia to her hooves and attempted to drag her away in the resulting confusion. "Shouldn't we help him?" I heard ask the Paladin. "No," he replied. "He is just a blood elf. We must save ourselves. Now is our chance. Let us go." He ran off into the night and she followed without so much as a look back at me.

"Just a blood elf..." I thought to myself. "Damn them. Damn them all. They should have died with their world. They should have..." The world faded away into blackness.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**Chapter 6  
**

* * *

I knew nothing of the fate of my companions and I remember little about the months that followed that confrontation.

I know that I was changed and that serving the Lich King became a priority. I know that I slaughtered the guilty and the innocent alike in his name. I remember seeing Nodel again. He was pale and empty. Like me, he remembered nothing of his past at that time. He did not even recall his name. He only remembered one thing; he had fallen defending the Argent Dawn. Even that memory was tattered by the ravages of the conversion on his mind. When he would try to recall the events leading up to this he could only conjure a single word that, to him, carried profound importance. "Ardjet."

A Sin'dorei girl who had taken the name Fearcast was often sent on assignment by Highlord Mograine with Ardjet and I. Nathroshaz the Tauren would occasionally accompany us on the larger tasks. I felt little at this time. I was cold and largely uncaring, however I did take pride in performing my duties for the Scourge and I considered my fellow Death Knights to be important to me.

I learned that my younger brother had been taken to Scholomance and later transferred to Naxxramas to undertake advanced study in Necromancy. He was now a Magus and had brought distinction to the name Fateweaver among the Scourge.

I recall battling patrols of Argent Dawn in the Plaguelands. Most of the details escape my recollection, but the day I nearly killed Pammajay still haunts me. I saw her alive again on patrol with Tanta and Sloat. They had made it... but my intention then was that they would not be so lucky a second time.

I blindsided Tanta, quickly incapacitating her. Sloat was a challenge. He fought me with the ferocity of a wolf protecting his mate. I quickly realized that this wasn't far from the truth. The more I damaged his body, the more angry Pammajay became until finally, Sloat was face down on the ground and Pammajay was upon me, clawing and biting at me in a frenzy of feral energy. Fearcast dispatched Pammajay's enthusiasm with a solid blow to the back of the head.

I piled the elf's prone body atop the Tauren and the Forsaken and raised my axe high above my head to deliver an executioner's strike and slay them all in a single blow when the furious sound of a growling engine shattered the calm silence that followed the battle. As my axe descended, it was parried by a titansteel destroyer and I found myself knocked several yards back. It was Klaive. He was seated on some sort of mechanical cycle with Shakaku the Warlock riding in a collapsable sidecar.

Klaive did not look like I remembered, though I couldn't recall anything about him at the time anyway. To me, he was a stranger. What did confuse me was that he looked to be one of us... his unholy energy was immense and I felt compelled to submit to him without question. His actions, however, told a different story.

He summoned forth an Army of Ghouls and Ardjet quickly found himself overcome by them. Fearcast attempted to charge at the rogue Death Knight, but was rapidly afflicted with enough of Shakaku's curses to drop a fel reaver.

Realizing that I was alone in this, I turned to make a strategic retreat when I saw a human death knight approaching from the rear. Could she be with them? Was I pinned in?

No. I realized, much to my relief, that she was one of us. I could feel her presence in my mind. Though my feelings of panic and uncertainty had weakened the Lich King's control over me just enough to allow a portion of my memory to return, triggered by the vision of her approach. It was the Syndicate girl I had dragged to Corin's Crossing back before all this began. I suddenly remembered her vividly and I recalled, as well, the words she had spoken the last time I saw her. "Someday, Ranger Shandor... I will make you pay for this. From this day forward, you are my enemy."

She drew her sword and began to attack Shakaku. Not wasting the opportunity, I launched myself at Klaive and engaged in a furious battle. I landed some solid blows and drew upon my dark gift, but Klaive's diseases were more potent than my own and each blow from his destroyer felt like I was being crushed beneath boulders. I defended myself as best I could but nothing was helping.

He broke through my every defense, he resisted every attempt I made to injure him. He dropped explosives behind me routinely and captured me in a net where I was trapped until the detonation took place beneath me. Engineers. I would hate them if they weren't so damn impressive.

I was defeated, lying on the ground unable to move. I looked over at the syndicate girl, expecting to see a snide expression on her face at the sight of me facing the end of my life. Instead, I saw that she was every bit as injured as I, kneeling upon the ground and having her life drained away by the warlock in front of her as a tiny imp took potshots that seared her flesh and incinerated pieces of her armor.

Klaive loomed above me and held out a small metal device. He pressed a button on the side of the contraption and directed it at me. Immediately, electric sparks began to surge over its surface and condense into a single central point. I knew what was coming.

As the bolt of electricity arced out towards me, I heard a loud grunt of effort and a cry of pain, but found myself miraculously uninjured. Looking up, I saw the human girl caught in the current, her body jerking and convulsing before she fell to the ground with a thud, her chest blackened and smoking.

Before Klaive or Shakaku could capitalize on our vulnerability, a Scourge attack squad rushed them and they were caught up in fierce battle once more. I had to hurry. It was only a matter of time until they emerged victorious.

I looked over at the human, climbing to my knees and hanging my head in shame. "You don't remember me, do you?" I asked, feeling the weight of the sacrifice she had just made for me.

"I do." she responded. "I remember you well, Shandor."

"But... you swore vengeance. You said I was your enemy. You could have let me die. Why did you save me?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Because, Shandor..." she reached her hand out and placed it lightly on mine. Her head turned to the side as a sad smile crossed her face. "While in life you were my enemy..." She coughed hard, blood running from the corner of her mouth and pooling on the ground beneath her. "...in death, we are all... brothers and sisters."

"...I will not forget you, human." My voice waivered as I spoke what I knew to be the truth.

"Tsugiri." she said weakly.

"What?" I asked, looking down at her face in confusion.

"I said my name is Tsugiri." she replied. "Not... 'human'."

Tears ran down my cheeks as she breathed her final breath and the light faded from her eyes. Why did I feel this way? How could I feel this way? I had been so cold... so distant. What had I become?


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

**Chapter 7  
**

* * *

I took the opportunity to return to Ebon Hold and, as I had hoped, those emotions faded away in time.

My renewed strength was short-lived, however.

After Ardjet and Fearcast were recovered and restored, we were sent on assignment with Nathroshaz to lay seige to Light's Hope Chapel. There, we discovered rather abruptly that the Lich King considered us expendable. The Ashbringer was miraculously restored in the hands of Tirion Fordring and, subsequently, its power opened our eyes to the truth and shattered Arthas' hold on our minds completely.

All of my memories were restored save for much of the time I spent in the Lich King's service.

Tammy the turtle had long since left her fallen master for a life at sea, leaving Ardjet with no ties to the past. Though he now remembered, he kept his new name and resolved to to join with the newly founded Knights of the Ebon Blade to bring Arthas and his entire twisted empire crashing to the ground.

I learned that Fearcast was once a happy young girl named Mousie. She insisted that she was no longer that innocent youth and asked that her fearful nature be reflected in her new name. Fearmouse was the compromise on which we all settled.

Nathroshaz sought out Yaluk in Northrend and joined him in the wanton destruction of every Scourge they came across while Tanta rejoined Rain in their continuing quest to regenerate the Plaguelands.

Pammajay and Slaot became inseparable in their battles for the Argent Dawn and soon found themselves further motivated by budding romance.

I endured the march of shame through Orgrimmar and, covered in spit and rotten fruit, met Thrall for the first time. I swore atonement as well as fealty and in his great wisdom, he saw fit to accept me into the Horde.

Since then, I have done great things in the name of the Warchief. I am slowly making up for all the damage I did during the time I spent in service to the Scourge. I am determined to make Arthas pay for all that he did to me and to my people. Lady Sylvanas can always rely on me. Even now, I remain her dedicated soldier. Always at the ready.

Arthas is not the only threat to our World, however.

The more I thought about it, the more I came to understand that the Draenei are a dangerous cancer on the face of our planet. Their kind empowered the Burning Legion by giving in to temptation and exchanging the future of their people for additional power. If that had been the end of it, their race could have died out in their home world and never plagued us with its unwelcome presence.

Sadly, they chose to flee their world and seek refuge in ours, bringing with them a conflict that is not native to Azeroth. One of such scope that it threatens to consume us all if we do not rise to meet the challenge laid before us.

They speak of unity and sacrifice, but when their lives are on the line they look out for their own and leave everyone else to their fates.

They are cowards who, for more than 25,000 years following their flight from Argus, have refused to answer for the crimes of their people. They assert that they are different than the rest of their race but prove regularly to be prone to the same weakness. They happily spend time with humans because aside from themselves, humans are the only race who use the Light as an excuse to justify their own shortcomings.

Truly, they are blinded by the love and temperance of the Naaru. Their eyes must be forced open.

This was the case I made to the people of the Horde. They saw it too. They agreed that something had to be done to punish these extra-dimensional wastes of carbon and to ensure that their destructive behavior never again has the chance to bring disaster upon our world.

Now, here we stand on the dock of Azuremyst Isle. Our sights are upon the Exodar and our thoughts are focused on slaughtering as many of those wretched blue creatures as we can manage. An outsider, I suppose, could easily confuse my hatred for the Draenei with the bigoted ranting of the newly liberated Varian Wrynn. There is, however, one very important difference.

Varian Wrynn wishes to wipe us all out because he is a mortal human and he suffers under the realization that he must share the world with beings he finds unsavory for the whole of his pathetically short, insignificant life.

I wish to wipe out the Draenei because they are a menace and a threat to our world's very existance. They are bringers of chaos and disaster... and I am a bringer of death.

I will not sit idly by and do nothing while they invite further catastrophe.

My death charger rears dramatically as I raise my sword to the sky. "Onward Brothers! Slay them all! FOR THE HORDE!"

Unified cries of "FOR THE HORDE!" ring out across Azuremyst Isle, accompanied by the sounds of roaring engines and assorted creatures trained to serve as mounts as we sweep into the Exodar and execute every Space Goat in sight.

Their guards fall like toy soldiers, their lifeblood staining the floor as we infect every corner of their ship, exterminating every living thing inside it. Even the Propet Velen falls to our combined might within minutes.

We have done it. The Exodar is ours. With their primary base of operations sterilized of all life, the remnants of their kind will be scattered to the four corners. In time they, too, will be eradicated.

My work is far from over, however.

My brother has escaped from Naxxramas and has rejoined us in Silvermoon City. We have both been having the same dream of late, in which we see our father making his way through a frozen tundra accompanied by a robed figure whose face does not reveal itself in the vision.

We are convinced that he yet lives. With this dirty Draenei business behind us, we can search for him in earnest.

If he's out there... we will find him.


End file.
